


Love Me However Suits You Best

by EmmaCarstairs



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, the dark artifices
Genre: Two words: BONDING TIME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaCarstairs/pseuds/EmmaCarstairs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiberius never signed up for babysitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me However Suits You Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Km2c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Km2c/gifts).



 

>  
> 
> _Journal entry #21._
> 
> _Wednesday 2 nd, May, 2012. 02:11 p.m._
> 
> _Drusilla went on her first patrol today.  Julian did not want her to go, stating that she is too young, but everybody else opposed to his opinion. She asked Livia to go with her. Julian and Emma tagged along, and so did Diana. She needs to oversee Drusilla’s performance. I think she is too young as well, but I did not voice it. Julian does not have to know I agree with him._
> 
> _They left 7 minutes ago. Uncle Arthur is in his room and Octavian is under my care._

 

Tiberius shuts the notepad with a huff.  Beside him, his youngest brother is bouncing on the loveseat, big cheeks colored with a healthy flush and crowned by dimples. Despite him not liking the library, as Tiberius is well aware, he sports a toothy grin that unnerves the black-haired teenager. He can see the kid is excited over the prospect of an entire afternoon alone with him – it has never happened before.

 

He doesn’t like the happy glint in those verdigris eyes. It means trouble.

 

“Can we go play now, Ty?” Octavian asks. His words are too quick and they trip over each other, the manner of speech is typical of a child his age.

 

Tiberius knows that. Still, he groans.

 

It’s going to be a long day.

 

 

> _Journal entry #21, subscript #1. 02:25 p.m._
> 
> _Octavian played with Emma’s crossbow in his room and snapped the arrows. He said it was an accident. I believe it happened last night but he only confessed his guilt today when Church brought me the evidence. Emma is going to be very upset._

 

“Can you teach me how to replace them, Ty?” Octavian asks in a tiny voice. He is looking at Tiberius with widened eyes, and the older Blackthorn has to gulp before he can reply.

 

“No, Octavian.”

 

His lips are puckered,  the bottom one slightly trembling. “But Memma is going to be mad at me”.

 

Tiberius has always hated that nickname. It brings him memories of a beautiful woman with bouncy black curls and eyes the color of steel.

 

Emma looks nothing like her. She _isn’t_ her.

 

He shrugs and stretches over his head to retrieve his bee-keeping journal from a shelf. Tucking it under his arm, he turns his back and exits the library. His younger brother’s naughtiness isn’t his problem.

 

> _Journal entry #21, subscript #3. 02:50 p.m._
> 
> _References in the Apiarist Journal._
> 
>  

 

He regrets bringing Octavian into the apiary before he even steps on the east wing of the roof. The extra helmet he keeps for Livia hangs loose on his small head, the protective suit is too big for him (“it’s too hot, Ty” he whines again) and he doesn’t stay put when Tiberius tries to double check if everything is perfectly sealed. He has done it over a thousand times, has narrowed the art to perfection; Malcolm often tells him he is an excellent beekeeper. But he is taking care of his youngest sibling now, and something akin to worry blooms inside him. He cannot allow his bees to harm him in any way.

 

He doesn’t seem worried. As dense as he is, he forgets all about the heat –amplified by the California sunrays reflecting on every white surface– when he spots the first bee that buzzes past him. He is startled, and for a second he holds tightly onto Tiberius’ leg. His eyes are huge.

Tiberius shakes him off --- but the kid is already running away from him and towards the neatly piled boxes where most of the bees are. He unlocks his jaw before his feet move in the same direction. “Don’t touch anything!”

 

>  
> 
> _Day 848 of successful Beekeeping. May 2 nd._
> 
> _-Boxes 02 to 11 currently filled to fo—_
> 
>  

 

“…and it formed a huuuge figure, like a shark. Or a potato. It was _so cool_.”

 

Octavian is waving his hands as he explains his last experience watching the bees, which is actually a delusion. He should inform the child of that fact, but he conveniently forgets to. Maybe in purpose.

 

He sighs, putting his journal away. Octavian distracts him from his work. He may have to ask Livia for help tomorrow.

 

“-super weird. Is that a bee?”

 

Tiberius spaced out. He blinks and follows the finger his brother is pointing, barely catches sight of the drone he saw. _Of course_ it’s a bee. “Are you stupid, Octavian?”

 

He puffs out his chest, rests his hands on either side of his torso and cries out, offended. “Am not!”

 

He pauses.

 

Tiberius stares.

 

 “Was that a bee, then?”

 

Tiberius sighs. He can feel the beginning of a headache. “Yes, it was”.

 

“Why doesn’t it look like the other bees?” Octavian asks in sheer curiosity. Tiberius imagines his eyes are wide open behind the protective screen.

 

“Because it’s a drone. It impregnates the queen.”

 

He realizes his mistake as soon as the words fly from his mouth.

 

Octavian jumps up from his previous place on the edge of an immense flowerpot, bouncing on the balls of his heels excitedly and clapping his hands before gluing himself to Tiberius. His comfort zone is thus liquidated. “You have a queen?!? Can I see her?!?! Where is she? Does she have a throne? Is it pretty, Ty-Ty? Is it biiiiig?”

 

“Don’t call me Ty-Ty” he deadpans. “And no, you can-“

 

“PLEASEEEEE”

 

“No, Oct-“

 

“ _PLEEEAAASEEEEE_. Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

 

(A very, very long day.)

 

> _Journal entry #21, subscript #4. 03:49 p.m._
> 
> _Livia should have arrived by now. Octavian is hungry._
> 
>  

 

Admittedly, Tiberius’ stomach is growling as well. A surge of pride strikes him when he notices how much better he deals with hunger in comparison to Octavian, but it’s ushered down just as quickly. He is not a child.

 

“Can you make me pancakes?” Octavian asks from his spot on the counter. He’s holding the bottle of juice in both hands and reading the list of ingredients out loud, pausing only to ask what a certain thing is or to demand food. Tiberius very much prefers the first to the latter.

 

“Pancakes aren’t lunch” he replies, because he does not want to say that he also doesn’t know how to make them, or admit his defeat to the fact that it’s decidedly not lunchtime anymore. He never had to cook, and everything in the kitchen requires a process he isn’t sure how to carry out.

 

He eyes the half-empty pantry and fears a breakdown.

 

“Check in the fridge”, Octavian supplies helpfully. He’s now moved on to reading the chemicals that make up a stain remover but he glances up briefly to check on his brother. “Or call the delivery place. Livia always calls the delivery place.”

 

“If I call them, you will have to take a bath while we wait for the food to arrive.”

 

The look of horror on his little face earns an unexpected chuckle from Ty.

 

 

> _Journal entry #21, subscript #5. 04:20 p.m._
> 
> _There was ice-cream in the freezer. Octavian swore he will not tell Julian we had all of it if I didn’t give him a bath. Reluctantly, I conceded. I also truly did not want to give him a bath._

 Octavian is patting his hands on his puffed-out belly and pretending it’s a drum. Tiberius wants to scold him but he is too tired, too stuffed. He ate too much. A whole pint of ice cream went to their stomachs along with chocolate chip cookies, the only remnants of them in the form of crumbs stuck to Octavian’s face – and even though a voice in the back of his mind is saying how stupid and risqué it was, the delicious flavor of the treat does sort of make up for the ache that might come.

 

He looks up when he hears a yawn, and his little brother’s mouth moves quickly from the gesture back to words.

 

“’M tired.”

 

“You’re tired.” They say it at the same time. He does see the smile coming this time, isn’t surprised by the tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s easy.

 

Octavian’s is a toothy grin that soon evolves into a giggle. “That was funny”, he says.

 

It was, Tiberius guesses. And he knows children have sleeping schedules different to those of adults and teenagers, so he forgets the previous coincidence and stands from his place on the table. “You have to take a nap, Tavvy. Wash your face before you go to your bedroom.”

 

He realizes the way his brother is staring at him isn’t normal, and is definitely not the same expression he had just seconds ago; but he can’t read it. Is he curious, upset? Amused? Tiberius is frustrated at his inability to tell.

 

He doesn’t dig deeper because something stranger is going on. He can’t remember the last time Octavian did as told without complaining or putting up a fight, yet there he is – washing his face in the kitchen sink, rinsing his mouth. And he is quiet.  It’s not enough to faze Tiberius but, well, he’s certainly surprised.

 

“Ta duh”, he announces when he steps down from the little stool their father had fashioned for Helen before either of them were born and remained in the same place ever since.  Water is dripping from his face and he’s grinning, and Tiberius really should see it come before it hap–

 

Octavian smacks a big kiss to his cheek. “You called me Tavvy”, he giggles before breaking in a sprint towards the stairwell.

 

“Don’t run!” Tiberius calls after him while he wipes his own face free of water and bacteria. His scowl is one of disgust, but he fights to keep it in place when he hears the kid shout _‘You’re the best!’_

 

> _Journal entry #21, subscript #6. 04:36 p.m._
> 
> _Octavian is in his bedroom sleeping. I will check on him in twenty minutes._
> 
> _My immediate older brother, younger sister and twin are still patrolling. His parabatai and our tutor are with them. I don’t actually think they have been away for long. The Institute is qui-_
> 
> _Scratch that. I believe I can hear the pick-up._
> 
> _They will be home in a minute._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! It's a request that took me a while but I never forgot about. :)


End file.
